


Home Sick

by Unhinged



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Gen, Prompt Fill, Warning: Language, sick-fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 00:11:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1245487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unhinged/pseuds/Unhinged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for: The brothers are home sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill for:
> 
> I'm home sick today, so I'd love to ready something AU, completely fluffy (preferably non-cesty) where the brothers are home sick (nothing too serious...head colds would be a good choice) and are getting on each others nerves? They can be fighting over the remote, whining about not wanting to eat, or whatever else you'd like to conjure up.
> 
>  
> 
> I realise this is outrageously late but hey, there's no expiry date on the prompts as far as I know.

Mamma Ylvisåker wanted to murder her sons. She didn't normally get such urges, but on that day the two were just too much to handle. Bård had stumbled downstairs the previous day, claiming that he couldn't go to school, he was too sick. She had been sceptical, but even a quick glance had shown that he was telling the truth. She had ordered him back to bed and brought him breakfast. She had had to leave for work but not before she made sure he had food, water, tissues, medicine and a bucket, just in case. Bård had whined that he was bored and that had been after just five minutes of being in bed. His mother had happily escaped.

In the afternoon, she got home, checked up on Bård (sleeping with his mouth wide open) and started cooking. That was when her older son came in. She had invited him over to eat a couple of days ago but he had claimed to be too busy to come visit his old mother. Vegard had come through the door, said hello and thrown himself down on the couch. It was only midway through their meal when she realised that he was sick too but trying to hide it.

Mamma Ylvisåker had smelled trouble right then and there. Dealing with one of the boys was bad enough when they were ill, but both at the same time? She was too old for that. Nevertheless, she had ordered Vegard to go in his old room and not leave the house until he was well. Vegard naturally protested, claiming that he was perfectly fine. His protest was rather ruined by him sneezing five times in quick succession.

Mamma Ylvisåker had looked to the boys' father for help, but he had lifted his hands up and gone to hide in their basement. 'Working on his projects' was the excuse, but Mamma knew he watched television and played solitaire.

The following morning was exactly as she had imagined it would be: Bård was whining endlessly and Vegard was claiming to be fine and wanting to do something to prove it. In the end, she put them both on the large couch in the living room and told Vegard to entertain Bård.

At first it went well. Vegard was telling about his exploits in the city and Bård was listening intently. Of course, then mister I'm-perfectly-alright fell asleep in the middle and Bård was left to entertain himself. Mamma Ylvisåker brought him his glasses and a book and escaped to work.

“Vegard,” Bård said quietly. The older brother kept snoring.

“Vegard!” Bård said a bit louder and coughed a couple of times. Still nothing.

“Hey asshat!” Bård screeched and tossed a pillow at Vegard.

“Ow, what?” Vegard asked, blinking fuzzily.

“I'm thirsty, get me water. Or juice. I could have some juice.”

“Get it yourself.”

“But I'm sick!”

“Do I look like I give a crap!”

That was when Bård knew Vegard was not pretending to be worse than he was in order to get free food. Usually he had the patience of a saint when dealing with his younger brother.

“Fine, I'll get it myself!”

“Fucking martyr.”

“What did you say?” Bård asked, outraged. He had just stood up though and was too wobbly to maintain both his outrage and his posture. His thirst claimed victory and Bård shuffled into the kitchen, not waiting to hear if Vegard would answer something.

Bård got a glass of juice and another packet of tissues their mother had left on the table. She had also written a note that reminded them to eat. She had left two tupperware bowls in the fridge, one for each. Bård ignored the food and returned to the living room with his drink.

Vegard had somehow managed to fall asleep again, so Bård entirely accidentally hit his leg on the way to his side of the couch. Vegard looked at Bård with murder in his glassy brown eyes, but the look was ruined by a sneeze. Vegard managed to cover his face just in time with his hand, but made an 'ewww' sound after and reached for the tissues. Bård ignored his brother blowing his nose like a trumpet and reached for the remote.

“Aha, _Friends_ is on!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Vegard asked, sounding congested and nasal.

“Shut up, I want some brainless entertainment.”

“Then just listen to yourself talk.”

“Oh go fuck yourself.”

Before they escalated into anything worse, Bård started coughing. He kept on coughing until he thought a lung might pop out. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he thought the fit would never end. But then he felt a glass of water pressed into his hands and a warm, strong arm support his back. Bård drank greedily and leaned against the arm.

After several minutes, the fit had passed and Bård had settled down from it. Neither said anything, Vegard simply helped Bård lean against a mountain of pillows and returned to his side of the sofa. The TV was left on the channel Bård had originally flicked it to, but for the next couple of hours both brothers slept.

When Bård woke up, he was feeling slightly better. His lungs still felt like they were full of slime and his throat hurt. And his eyes were dry. And he needed to pee. But other than that, he felt better.

“Vegard,” Bård said again, not even checking if his brother was awake.

Vegard looked at Bård and raised his eyebrows.

“I need to take a piss.”

“What?”

“But I'm too tired to go to the bathroom.”

“And?”

“Do something about it.”

Vegard looked at his brother in absolute bewilderment.

“Are you running a fever? Has the blob of goo you like to call your brain finally melted?”

“What kind of a big brother are you?”

“The kind who tells you to get up, go to the bathroom and not piss your pants.”

Bård got up, grumbling all the while. He made a show of appearing to be barely able to stay on his feet, but he was rudely ignored.

After Bård had finished his business, he popped by the kitchen to get himself more juice. He looked at the note from their mother, but he wasn't even remotely hungry. He returned to the living room and burrowed into his blankets.

“Vegard.”

“Now what?”

“I'm bored.”

“For the love of little kittens!”

Vegard covered his face in his hands and groaned out loud. Bård looked at him, trying to appear innocent. He was bored, but winding his brother up was definitely entertaining.

“You should go eat,” Vegard suddenly said. It was as if he had read Bård's mind earlier when he had contemplated their mother's note.

“Not hungry.”

“Eat anyway, it's good for you.”

“But I'm not hungry.”

“Eat any- wait, I'm not going to repeat myself! Just go in the kitchen and eat.”

“Why don't you have to eat?” Bård knew he sounded like a whiny five-year-old but he didn't care.

“Because I'm not a sickly weakling like you.”

Bård felt like protesting but decided to remove himself from the room instead. He wandered over into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Their mother had put a sticker on each tupperware bowl and written their names on them. Bård took both out and peeked inside Vegard's bowl. He had mashed potatoes and Bård scrunched his nose. He put it back in and opened his own. Rice and some brown sauce. Good enough, he figured and tossed it into the micro.

Bård sat in the kitchen eating and listening to Vegard snore. He finished the entire bowl and had to admit he felt greatly better after eating. He was getting sleepy and decided to follow his brother's example. The next hour passed in relative silence, interrupted only by Bård's occasional coughing and Vegard's snoring.

“Vegard.”

“Vegard.”

“VEGARD!”

“Jesus what?!”

“I'm bored.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“But I'm too tired for some self-loving.”

“You're disgusting.”

“It would pass the time nicely though. Maybe I should give it a try.”

“You make me sick.”

“You suggested it.”

“No, literally.”

Bård was fast to act. Their mother had left a bucket on the floor under the sofa table. Bård grabbed it and put it under Vegard just as he leaned over the edge of the sofa and retched. Bård looked away and tried to ignore the smell.

“Who's disgusting now, eh?” Bård tried to grin, but it fell flat.

Vegard leaned back to lay down. He was panting slightly.

Bård came to realise that Vegard wasn't planning on moving any time soon. Bård didn't want to be in proximity of the bucket, but neither did he want to do anything to get rid of the contents. Where was their mother when they needed her?

As if summoned by Bård, their mother opened the door and stepped in. She took off her jacket and shoes and entered the living room with two bags of groceries. She scrunched her nose, looking eerily like Bård.

“Which one of you threw up?”

“Vegard did!” Bård was quick to shout and point at his now sleeping brother.

Their mother shook her head. Lords above help her and give her strength.

“Did you two eat?”

“I did!” Bård almost beamed with pride. “Vegard didn't, claimed he wasn't sickly, hah!”

“Very good, dear,” their mother said as she put her groceries away. Sometimes she could swear her sons were still five and seven, not nearly grown men.

Mamma Ylvisåker ended up cleaning, bringing water to both boys, forcing medicine on them (“We didn't feel like drugs”), entertaining Bård, holding Vegard's hair as he had several new rounds and feeding her husband and herself. A truly joyous day.

But in the end, she watched as both boys were sleeping on the couch, arms unconsciously stretched out towards each other and she was so full of love she could barely contain it. These were her boys. They were her babies and they would always be. So if she had to clean some vomit off a carpet (thanks, sweetheart), she would do it.

Mamma Ylvisåker bent down to kiss each of her boys on their cheeks and adjusted their blankets. She knew they'd be feeling better in a day or two and would inevitably start bickering to pass the time, but she would just tell them to shut up. And if that failed, maybe she would join her husband with his projects in the basement.


End file.
